


The Art of War

by lary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, BDSM, Because I can that's why, Crack, Daddy Kink, Humor, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Slash, Spanking, The Author Regrets Nothing, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was time for the Final Battle. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of War

**Author's Note:**

> WTF? Seriously, don't ask me, I don't even know. All I can say is this is 100% crack, be warned and read at your own discretion.

 

 

 

It was a dark and stormy night.

 

The Final Battle of the valiant forces of Light against the threatening evil was about to take place. Hogwarts stood in its ancient glory, lending strength to the wizards and witches standing on the battlefield, prepared to duel until their final breaths. Albus Dumbledore stood tall and royal on top of the astronomy tower, overseeing his army; each and every person he saw held a special place in his heart. Fawkes soared high, red-golden and beautiful in the sky. Its cry flamed hope in the wizards and witches facing the Death Eaters, who were clad in black robes and white masks through which they watched with merciless eyes.

 

A single spell was cast, and it was on.

 

Amidst the chaos, two wizards approached each other, effortlessly dodging the flying curses. Red eyes locked with green through the distance, twin wands were drawn, one from amongst black robes, another from a jeans pocket. Mouths tightened into grim, determined expressions on both men's faces as they halted a dozen feet apart, ready for their final battle.

 

“Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived,” Voldemort said. “The day has come for us to meet again, in our two hundredth and--” he paused. “Fuck, hold on. PETER!”

 

“My Lord.” Pettigrew hastened to kneel at his master's side. “How may I be of service?”

 

“How many times has it been again? I have lost count.”

 

“My Lord in most gracious in trusting me with the noble task of keeping track of--”

 

“Yes, yes, just spit it out.”

 

“Of course, My Lord, it has been 236 battles before this one.”

 

“Dismissed.” An absent wave of Voldemort's hand sent Pettigrew scrambling away quickly, and he once again stood to face the Chosen One. “Harry Potter, The Boy Who Li--”

 

“Can't you just continue from where you left off?” Harry interrupted. Voldemort narrowed his eyes and then glared at him for a full minute before Harry resigned himself. “Fine then. Sorry.”

 

“Thank you,” Voldemort said in clipped tones. “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The day has come for us to meet again, in our two hundredth and thirty sixth--”

 

“Actually it's two hundredth thirty seventh, Pettigrew said it had been--” Harry started, but stopped at the icy stare. “You know what, never mind, just do your thing.”

 

“As I was saying,” Voldemort said through gritted teeth, “our two hundredth and thirty sixth glorious battle. Somehow, you have managed to survive for this long, ever since your parents fell at my hand. But the time has now come--”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Can't you just wrap it up already?”

 

“You insufferable creature, could you stop interrupting?” Voldemort hissed. “You may not appreciate the effort that goes into crafting yet another Evil World Domination Speech, but the least you could do is to keep your trap shut.”

 

“Couldn't you just recycle the ones from the first hundred or so?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not? I'm sure nobody could tell.”

 

“Irritate me further, Potter, and I shall kill you.”

 

“Good, finally we're getting to it.” Harry renewed his duelling stance and pointed his wand at Voldemort, but his hopes were dashed when the other wizard smirked.

 

“Hmm. Scratch that. Irritate me further, Potter, and I shall refrain from even making an attempt for your life in this battle.”

 

Harry released a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, I won't interrupt again.”

 

“Good,” Voldemort said. “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The day has come for us to meet again, in our two hundredth and thirty sixth glorious battle. Somehow, you have managed to survive for this long, ever since your parents fell at my hand. But the time has now come to finish this, once and for all, and bring upon a time of--”

 

“Sorry, mate,” Ron said when he apparated onto the battlefield.

 

“You're late again,” Harry said, turning to his best friend with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Yeah,” Ron said with a sheepish grin. “It's just that Hermione's ovulating so we had to--”

 

“Please, shut up,” Harry said quickly. “I don't want to hear any more inappropriate details of your sex life. Actually, I don't want to hear about anybody's sex life when I don't even have time for a decent wank between work and the battles. Hey, Voldemort, couldn't we begin an hour later some evening?”

 

Instead of answering, the Dark Lord glared at them with a thunderous expression, tapping his foot.

 

“Oi!” Ron protested. “It's your godchild that might have been conceived today,” Ron said.

 

“Yeah,” Harry couldn't help but smile. “Do you think Hermione would let me get a baby-broom already? Or one of those little outfits with moving snitches on them? Those are so cute, I saw them on Saturday when I visited Diagon All--”

 

“PETER!”

 

Startled, they turned back to look at Voldemort.

 

“My Lord.” Pettigrew hastened to his masters side once more. “How may I be of service?”

 

“Escort the Weasley boy away.”

 

“My Lord in most gracious in trusting me with the noble task of--” Pettigrew squeaked suddenly at seeing Ron's wide grin, and he promptly turned into a rat, scattering off with the red haired wizard hot in pursuit.

 

“Maybe we should just leave it for today,” Voldemort said resignedly, glancing out towards the lake.

 

“No, c'mon, I'm sorry,” Harry said quickly. There was something wrong with the picture of a disappointed Dark Lord. “I promise I won't interrupt again. I just got carried away, I'm so excited to become a godfather, it's not like I'm likely ever to have any kids of my own.” When the other wizard didn't answer, Harry added, “Please?”

 

“All right,” Voldemort said after a moment, turning back to face his adversary. “Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived,” he said with flourish. “The day has come for us to meet again, in our two hundredth and thirty sixth glorious battle. Somehow, you have managed to survive-- oh for fuck's sake. PETER!”

 

Surprised, Harry glanced over his shoulder to Hagrid's Hut towards which Voldemort was glaring, and then did a double take at seeing that Narcissa Malfoy had stopped duelling Snape and proceeded to stick her tongue down his throat. The two were kissing enthusiastically, ignoring the battle going on around them.

 

Pettigrew's voice snapped Harry out of staring. “My Lord. How may I be of service?”

 

“Your arm.”

 

“My Lord in most gracious in--”

 

“Oh, shut up already,” Voldemort snapped and pressed his fingers on the Dark Mark, causing Pettigrew's face to distort into a pained grimace. Harry smirked.

 

With a pop, Lucius Malfoy apparated before Voldemort. “My Lord--”

 

“Save it, Lucius.” Voldemort gestured towards the Hut, and Lucius scowled, taking off with angry stride towards his wife, who by this point had her hand in Snape's pants. Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Voldemort, who grimaced. “Believe me, both the resulting hissy fit and the make up sex will be much less distracting if they're not allowed to get further than that.”

 

“This happens a lot? Death Eater meetings must be a lot more fun than I thought.”

 

Voldemort snorted. “Why do you think you haven't seen the younger Malfoy in seven months? Intensive therapy.”

 

“Really?” Harry asked, grinning. “I thought you'd just offed him.”

 

“As if I would ever frivolously kill somebody with such a fine arse. What do you take me for?”

 

“Malfoy's arse is the only part of him I've actually missed. And I don't know, an Evil Overlord?”

 

“Evil, Potter. Not stupid.”

 

“Your concern for Malfoy's backside is duly noted,” Harry said. “Doesn't explain why you've been after me all these years. Haven't you noticed that my arse is second to none?”

 

“Oh, I've noticed,” purred Voldemort.

 

Just as Harry thought that things were starting to get interesting, their conversation was interrupted by Lucius Malfoy's indignant voice. “Have we not talked about you two starting without me?” the blond demanded, pointing his wand at Snape.

 

The other wizard ignored it and instead reached for Lucius' forearm and pulled the blond wizard towards himself forcefully. “Shut up and fuck me.”

 

That did indeed shut up Malfoy, who begun undressing Snape with his wife's eager help, and then proceeded to kiss the life out of him.

 

“...glorious battle-- Potter? Are you even listening?”

 

“Huh? Sorry.” Harry reluctantly dragged his gaze back towards Voldemort, who gave him an offended look.

 

“What is the point of going through the trouble of presenting another speech in anticipation of your death, when you are not even trying to pay attention?”

 

“You can't really blame me for being distracted by the live sex show.” Harry glanced towards the Hut again, where Snape was sandwiched between the Malfoys, all three in various states of undress.

 

“They do look rather delicious together,” Voldemort conceded.

 

“Right,” Harry said after a while, gathering himself and turning back to Voldemort. “You were saying something.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“A-ha!” Harry grinned. “You forgot about your speech, too!”

 

“I did not!”

 

“Did too,” Harry argued. “After all this guilt-tripping! You're such a hypocrite.”

 

Voldemort tried to look menacing, but ruined it with an unwilling smirk. “Very well. You did have a point though, about the live sex show,” Voldemort said, moving close enough to speak softly in his ear. “And possibly about the drawbacks of early evening battles.”

 

“Wait. What?” Harry said. “Here's the much feared Dark Lord, lamenting the loss of post-work wank.”

 

“Even Dark Lords have needs.”

 

“Huh. Never thought of that.”

 

“Pity,” Voldemort said carelessly, then smirked. “You are thinking about it now, are you not?”

 

“Uh-huh...” Harry said. Thinking. Yep, definitely thinking. Also, his jeans were starting to feel a bit tight. “How about we call it a day?”

 

“An excellent suggestion.” Voldemort's wand drew a purple smoke curtain, and when it dissipated, they were standing in the Riddle Manor, surrounded by dark wooden furniture and stone walls.

 

“You couldn't have just apparated us?” Harry breathed into Voldemort's neck, pushing the wizard onto the conveniently located couch and straddling him. “Show-off.”

 

“Really, Potter,” Voldemort panted as Harry's hand moved downwards. “You have only known me-- ohh, yes, there-- all your life.”

 

“Hmm, the dramatics should've tipped me off as to your sexual orientation earlier,” Harry murmured, while he bent to kiss Voldemort's throat. He was getting a bit breathless himself, but the other wizard was further gone, thrusting into his grip. “Could've saved us a few dozen speeches-- battles, I mean.”

 

“Ahh, oh, oh, wait-- red!”

 

Harry stopped and sat up to stare at Voldemort in shock, withdrawing his hands from the other man's robes. “You're safewording me? For biting – seriously? Thought you'd be kinkier than that,” he said disappointedly.

 

“I simply did not expect you to be,” Voldemort said. “Not that I am opposed. However, it is necessary for us to have a discussion before launching into BDSM.”

 

“Uh,” Harry said, somewhat distracted by the way Voldemort's robes were tenting, let alone his own demanding hard on. “You want to...” he trailed off. “Look, can't we just keep going as we were, it was--”

 

“Potter.” Voldemort shifted and Harry was forced to move off him, so that they were sitting on the couch. The icy glare was still effective even off battlefield. “Have you never heard of safe, sane, and consensual?”

 

“Fine, okay,” Harry conceded.

 

“So, hard limits?”

 

“Unforgivables.”

 

“You are simply no fun,” Voldemort pouted.

 

“Oh, I'll show you fun.”

 

“Promises, promises...”

 

…2 hour 28 minutes later...

 

“And last thing on the checklist. Toes?”

 

“Open to trying,” Harry said. “Satisfied?”

 

“Not until a more practical application has taken place.”

 

“Oh, just come to Daddy.” Voldemort shivered and climbed on Harry's lap, which resulted in mutual distraction and thrusting, before Harry got a hold of himself. “Robes off.” Voldemort started to undress, but Harry gripped his wrist. His voice had obtained an edge of steel. “What do you say?”

 

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

“Good,” Harry said, voice rough. “Now take that off, then on hands and knees over there, next to the desk.”

 

“Yes, Daddy.” Voldemort complied, presenting his pale arse to Harry's view.

 

Merlin, he wanted to use that hole. Not yet though. “Have you been a bad boy?”

 

“I have, Daddy,” Voldemort said, flushing, and did that ever look weird.

 

“Hmm, I thought so.” Harry kneeled next to the other man and ran his right hand over the pale arsecheeks. “Don't worry, Daddy will just have to spank you.” With that, he drew his hand back and let it drop, hard.

 

“One,” Voldemort gasped. When there was silence, he glanced over his shoulder, and was met by Harry's expectant look. He bit his lip before adding, “Thank you, Daddy.”

 

“Yesss...”

 

“Ahh, two! Thank you, Daddy.”

 

...17 minutes later...

 

“That's it, baby, you were good.” Harry rubbed the abused flesh, and Voldemort's wince made another jolt of arousal shoot straight into his cock. By this point he _needed_ to come so badly, and Voldemort was just as desperate, if the way his prick was jutting against his stomach was any indication, rock-hard and leaking precome. “C'mon, spread your legs for Daddy.”

 

Voldemort was pliant as Harry moved him in position, using a spell to prepare him before thrusting into the tight heat. “Ohh, god.”

 

“Please...”

 

Harry moaned, pounding in harsher. “Yes, baby, ask for it,” he panted, wanting to hear it.

 

Voldemort was flushed, his voice shaking when he pleaded. “Please, Daddy, fuck me.”

 

“Fuck. Come for Daddy. Now!” Harry moaned as Voldemort's arse tightened around his cock. He pushed into the heat and he was drowning, his vision blurring into white as he sunk into the bliss.

 

...38 minutes later...

 

“Will you be a good boy for Daddy now?”

 

Voldemort shifted, biting his lip. “I... I am uncertain that I know how.”

 

Harry tightened his arm around his lover, snuggling closer on the couch so that their foreheads were touching. “All I expect is that you do your best. And I will be there to help you.”

 

“Very well,” Voldemort said, not looking like he had very much faith. That didn't matter, Harry was convinced he had enough for both of them. He kissed Voldemort slow and soft, and the other man responded, melting into his arms.

 

“So, I'm thinking everybody's probably gone home by now?” said Harry after a long while.

 

“I would expect so,” Voldemort said. “Tomorrow will be soon enough?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said. “Same time, same place.”

 

Voldemort cuddled into him. “Looking forward to it.”

 

…

 

It was a dark and stormy night when the War of the Wizarding World finally came to an end.

 

The Saviour and The Dark Lord entered the battlefield together, too busy making googly eyes at each other to pay any heed to the battle around them. The valiant forces of Light looked as horrified as the Death Eaters did. Snape smirked and interrupted the blow job he was receiving from Lucius Malfoy, who narrowed his eyes and then begrudgingly handed the other wizard a galleon before resuming his earlier activities. Ron Weasley blinked repeatedly, red in the face, but then shrugged and apparated back home to his wife. Peter Pettigrew burst into tears, his hopes dashed, before turning into a rat and scurrying away.

 

There was a fair amount of indecisive shuffling around until somebody suggested a pint in Hog's Head. One by one witches and wizards pocketed their wands, shook hands, and begun making their way towards the school gates.

 

Dumbledore beamed as he watched from top of the tower at the two men left standing alone at the feet of Hogwarts. “Love is the greatest magic of all,” he said and reached in his pocket for a lemon drop.

 

 


End file.
